


You've Got Mail

by brittyelaine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Beekeeper Castiel, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Lawyer Sam, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Meet-Cute, Openly Bisexual Dean, Pregnant Jessica, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 14:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8581282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittyelaine/pseuds/brittyelaine
Summary: A year in the life of Dean Winchester: What's supposed to be a quick errand while running late for work turns out to be the best inconvenience of Dean's life when he meets a quirky, blue-eyed beekeeper.





	

Dean’s muttering obscenities to himself as he ducks into the post office, thankful for the reprieve from the unseasonable chill in the air. The bitter wind makes late April feel more like January. He shifts the package in his hand and makes a face at the line of people. “Damn it,” he grumbles, finding his place behind a blue hair who looks like she’s knocking at death’s door, and a man about his height with a mess of black hair and an arm full of precariously-stacked packages.

He’s a week behind on mailing Sam’s birthday present, and half an hour late for Mrs. Baker’s tune-up. He knows Bobby will be ripping him a new one by the time he gets to the shop. So, of course, it’s this morning, of all mornings, he’s stuck behind the oldest person he’s ever seen trying to negotiate the price of the stamps with the damn Queen’s face on them, and someone who looks like every scientist in a disaster movie – bumbling, windswept hair, and constantly dropping things. 

“Next!” The blue hair finally hobbles away, and the Bumbling Scientist steps up to the counter, dropping the two small packages atop his stack as he moves forward. The clerk sighs, smoothing her hair, which, judging by the amount of hairspray in that bouffant, wasn’t going anywhere if she tried.

“Good morning Tracy,” the man says, emptying his arms onto the counter.

“Good morning, Mr. Novak. How many we got this week?” 

“Oops.” He bumps the stack, and a small package tumbles from the counter, bouncing behind him.

Dean stoops to grab it, shoving it into the man’s hand. When he stands, he meets the guy’s eyes, and he opens his mouth to make a snarky comment. Nothing comes out. 

“Thanks.” 

Clearing his throat, Dean realizes he’s staring. He’s mesmerized by the bright, icy blue. “Uhh. Yeah. Yep. Just…” He gets his bearings, and takes a step back. He shifts his face back into his usual scowl and makes a show of looking at his watch. “Kinda runnin’ behind, buddy, so… D’you mind?” He gestures to the counter and huffs.

The man purses his lips and nods. “Of course. My apologies.” 

When the guy finally leaves the counter, Dean catches his eyes, and he feels his stomach do a flip. For the rest of the day, he finds his mind wandering. All he can think about are those eyes.

+

Dean ducks into the post office the following week and pulls an envelope out of his pocket. He tells himself he has a legitimate reason to be here: he’s a citizen, he has things to mail – important things – it has nothing to do with an infuriatingly attractive, blue-eyed mystery person. Nothing to do with that at all, he repeats as he falls into line behind a harried mother wrangling an over-sized package and a wailing toddler. He looks around, scanning each face he finds. 

“Next! _Sir_! Next.”

“What? Me? Oh, sorry.” Dean realizes the mom and her mini nightmare were gone, and the three people behind him were staring at him, expectant and annoyed. 

“Sorry.” He steps up to the counter and slides the envelope to the clerk.

“Did you want to buy stamps?”

“Huh? No. Just mail this.”

“That’s it?”

Furrowing his brow, Dean shifts his weight. “Yeah. Why?”

“Sir, this already has a stamp on it. In the future, if you’re not purchasing anything additional, you can just drop envelopes with postage in the blue box over there.” She points to the wall of self-service and tosses the envelope into a pile behind her. “Have a nice day.”

He doesn’t reply as he hurries away from the counter, embarrassed and annoyed with himself. The guy was nowhere to be found, and he suddenly felt like an idiot. He’s chastising himself as he barrels through the door, and directly into a body, knocking a stack of packages to the ground. “Shit!” He kneels to help gather the scattered boxes, and he realizes it’s none other than him. The blue eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry, man. My bad. I hope these aren’t breakable.”

“They are,” the man says, stacking them haphazardly on the ground as he gathers the last of them.

“Oh. Oh, shit, I—“

“But they’re filled with bubble wrap, so it should be fine.”

Dean huffs. “You could’ve led with that, you know,” he grumbles as he stands. 

The man does the same and shifts the packages in his hands. “Probably. Thanks for helping.”

“What is all this, anyway?” Dean stacks the last package atop the stack. “Saw you here last week, dropping the same kind of boxes.” 

“It’s honey. I keep bees, harvest the honey, and sell it.”

Raising his eyebrows, Dean huffs out a laugh. “Oh. That’s… That’s actually pretty cool.”

The man balances the packages in one arm to dig in his back pocket. He produces a card and pushes it into Dean’s hands with a smile. Squinting down at it, Dean nods. “Castiel?” he reads. “Interesting name. I’m Dean.” He offers a hand to shake, but realizes the stupidity of his move, offering a handshake to someone with their arms full. “Right. Sorry. Uh, anyway. Nice to meet you. I gotta get to work.” He steps out of Castiel’s way.

“Of course. I’ll see you, Dean.”

Dean waves awkwardly. “Yeah… See you around.” He leaves before he has a chance to say anything stupid. 

+

The following week, he finds an excuse to wander into the post office, despite running late for work yet again. He wonders briefly if this could be considered stalking. It probably is, he decides, and hightails it through the doors. He’s turning the corner toward the shop when he spots him – Castiel. As usual, his arms are full of packages stacked haphazardly and precarious. Dean makes a split-second decision and jogs up to Castiel, grabbing the topmost packages from the pile. “Hey,” he greets cheerfully, flashing a smile. “You looked like you could use some help. So. I’m helping.” 

“Oh. Hello, Dean. Thank you.” Castiel looks surprised and cautious. Dean would be, too.

“So, I looked you up last week.” At the look of shock Castiel shoots him, Dean smiles. “You gave me your card. So I looked you up. Your honey business is pretty cool. I don’t… All I can do is fix cars.” He looks down at himself, wiping a hand on his jeans for no reason. “Grease monkey.” When he lifts his eyes, Castiel’s are on him.

“Cars are intricate machines,” he says softly. “Don’t doubt yourself, Dean. We all have our talents.”

Dean doesn’t realize they’ve arrived at the post office’s doors. He doesn’t realize he’s staring. “Do you wanna have dinner with me?” he blurts out, his face flushing.

Castiel tilts his head curiously. It feels like an eternity to Dean, watching as Castiel’s eyes drag over him. “I’d like that very much.” He smirks. “Dinner would be nice. Then maybe you can stop going out of your way to run into me.”

“I… what?”

“I’ve seen you around, Dean. I know that you work at Singer Auto, which is, what… four blocks in the opposite direction?” Castiel smiles, and Dean decides it’s like sunshine. “I don’t mind seeing you. But how are you going to buy me dinner if you’re unemployed?”

Laughing, Dean ducks his head and nods. “Touché. Uh, I have your number. I’ll call you.” He stacks the boxes atop the pile in Castiel’s arms and backs away. “See you around, Cas.”

+

Dean can’t remember the last time he was this nervous about a date. He struggled to remember the last time he even went on a date. After Lisa, he’d gone on a few, but none of them memorable. There was the waitress he’d picked up from the dive bar near the shop six months back. She was fun, of course, but it was just that – a fun night to take his mind off things. Then there was the real estate agent who’d brought his car into the shop last month. He was hot, and so was that three-day weekend, but come Monday morning, it fizzled along with Dean’s interest. 

_Castiel_ , though. There was something that ignited a spark within Dean. There was something that made him giddy and nervous. There was something that made him want to try his hardest, because he might _actually_ be worth a damn.

He knocks on the door at exactly eight o’clock and steps back to smooth down his grey button-down before raking a hand through his hair. He’s practically buzzing with anticipation. The door opens, and Dean looks up to find a smiling Castiel. His hair, as always, is a mess, but he’s wearing a pale blue button-down that makes his eyes look un-fucking-real. “Hey,” Dean breathes.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel steps back to let Dean pass. Reaching past Dean, he grabs his wallet from the small table in the entry. “I’m ready when you are.”

Dean nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Sure. Yeah. Uh, I grabbed reservations at that new Italian place on Massachusetts… near the park?” He offers the information like a question, as if afraid Cas wouldn’t approve.

“That sounds good,” Castiel says. “Shall we? I’m starving.”

“We shall.”

+

Dean finds, over the course of the evening, that conversing with Cas feels normal; it feels comfortable. There’s a feeling of warmth that settles in his chest, and he can’t remember smiling this much in years – ever, even. After dinner, he proposes a walk through the park. It’s just down the street from the restaurant, and it’s a beautiful, clear evening. This is what he loves most about late spring – the weather is very nearly always perfect. To his delight, Cas agrees.

They find themselves on the steps of the gazebo, staring up at the sky, Cas pointing out the visible constellations. Cas’s arm brushes against Dean’s, and he leans into the warmth. “I’ve had an awesome time tonight, Cas,” he says, filling a lull in the conversation.

Cas turns to him and smiles. “I’ve had an incredible time, Dean. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. I’d forgotten how much fun it can be.” He pauses, his eyes drifting briefly over Dean’s face. “I’m not sure I’ve ever enjoyed it as much with anyone else, though.”

Grinning, Dean leans closer. Tentatively, he reaches up to touch Cas’s cheek. When Cas doesn’t recoil in disgust, he takes a chance and leans closer still, brushing his lips against Cas’s. He leans back to gauge Cas’s reaction briefly, and finds nothing but happiness in his face. “I concur,” Dean whispers, leaning in for another kiss.

+

“Cas, c’mon! We gotta go!” Dean looks at his watch one more time and pushes himself off the couch. He smiles at Cas hurrying down the stairs, looking every bit a disheveled mess as always. Dean catches his waist and pulls him in for a kiss. “Babe, I love you, but why do you look like you’re heading off to the firing squad?” 

“I’m meeting your brother for the first time. What if he doesn’t like me?”

Dean laughs. “Are you kidding me, Cas? He’s gonna love you. Mom loves you. I love you. Sammy’s gonna love you. Jess is gonna love you. You have nothing to worry about.” He kisses Cas’s forehead. “But we’ll never find out if we don’t get going. So can we _please_ …”

“Yes, yes,” Cas grumbles. “Let me grab the presents. I’ll meet you in the car.” 

+

Dean looks around the table, unable to wipe the goofy smile from his face. Sam’s telling some ridiculous story about an associate at his firm – a story Dean couldn’t care less about, but it’s the first Christmas in years that he’s felt happy. And it’s all to do with Cas. In the years since dad died, Christmas was hit or miss. Lisa had never done anything to make it overwhelmingly happy, but with Cas… Dean felt like his heart was so full it might burst.

Later, as they sat in the living room beside the tree, Dean watches Mary pawing at Jess’s stomach and delighting in the baby kicks. She’s due in a month, and Dean’s not-so-secretly hoping his very first niece will share his birthday. With a sigh, Dean drapes his arm around Cas’s shoulder and pulls him close. He kisses Cas’s temple and sighs. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs. “Thank you for loving me.”

+

Dean’s grumbling obscenities to himself when he ducks into the post office, thankful for a reprieve from the yet-again unseasonable chill in the air. He wishes Mother Nature would make up her damn mind. Is it Spring? Is it Winter? Pick a damn lane. He runs a hand through his hair before digging the key to Cas’s PO box out of his pocket. He’d asked Dean to stop by and grab the mail this morning before he rushed out the door to run errands across town. As he approached the wall of boxes, he smiles, glancing over at the line to the counter. It’s been a year, he realizes, since he was stuck behind that quirky, bumbling blue-eyed beekeeper; a year since fate shoved him into line behind the love of his life.

He opens the box, and finds a single piece of mail. A postcard, he realizes. Oddly, it’s addressed to Dean Winchester. The return address he recognizes as one of Cas’s ridiculous personalized bee stickers. He turns it over and his breath catches in his throat. It’s simple, but it forces his heartbeat into overdrive. Two simple words in Cas’s chicken scratch: **_Marry me_**.

“This is where it started. I thought it was fitting.” He turns to find Cas grinning ear-to-ear. 

“Yes.” Dean doesn’t hesitate. He closes the distance between them in two easy strides and pulls him into a kiss. He’s deaf to the patrons clapping at the show. The world, as far as Dean is concerned, is only Dean and Castiel. “Of course, Cas. It’ll always be yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> This came about while waiting in line at the post office. I have to do something to pass the time!
> 
> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr](http://brittywritesstuff.tumblr.com)!


End file.
